Inept
by Raegon
Summary: Harry Potter isn't struck with the killing curse until he was eight, and with the memories of that fateful night ingrained into his memory how will he be changed? My first attempt at Fanfiction so bear with me.
1. Prologue

The gates creaked in warning to deaf ears, too far into their sleep to recognize that as impossible as it should have been, they had a visitor. His cloak billowed as he walked down the cobble path up to unsuspecting home. The leaves crumpling as he walked over them and up to the door that he had the gall to knock on, cruelly waiting for his victim to bring himself to his own demise

" James! I think Sirius decided to visit, could you get the door?"

It had taken him eight years to track down the mutt Black and forcibly removed the secret with legilimency. He was unsatisfied with himself for the time it had taken, he was here nonetheless. The door creaked open revealing a crows nest of black hair followed by the rest of James Potter filling the doorway.

" No… " James almost whimpered as he recognized the yew wand pointing directly at him.

" _Avada kedavra"_ Voldemort hissed out, gleefully watching as James eyes glazed over and embraced death while his body crumpled to the floor. He stepped over the body and entered the house, ignoring the shrieking and crying from Lily as her beloved husband crumpled to the floor.

" Where is the boy " Voldemort demanded. Rather then respond Lily pounded up the stairs in a pitiful effort to save her son. Voldemort scoffed at her actions, they were so needless, so wasteful, to allow herself to die over something so weak and useless as the boy. Voldemort stalked after her, patiently making his way up the stairs where she had so idiotically trapped herself. He sent a bombarda at the door, sending splinters into the dull green walls and embedding them into the white carpeted floors. Portraits were stung as well, watching in fear as he continued his death march to Harry's room. He entered the room to a truly pitiful sight, the mother, wandless in front of a cowering eight year old Harry.

" Step aside and you may be spared, I only need the boy " he responded, already knowing she was steadfast in her efforts.

" No! Please, take me not Harry! Please leave him be! " Lily begged in a futile effort.

" Why do you waste your life in such an effort that you know will not work? Though what does it matter, with blood as impure as yours you deserve to be slaughtered. Voldemort ranted out to her. He was fed up with her and decided to end it swiftly.

" _Avada Kedavra_ " he hissed out again and watched the vibrant green light strike her in the chest.

The boy slumped into the corner, tears sliding down his face as his mother collapsed in front of him. He sobbed while still screaming for his mom to just wake up, begging and pleading for her to get up and not to leave him.

" And now all that remains is you and me, child. Did you honestly believe you could escape your fate as easily as a fidelius? " Voldemort asked.

" Why? " Harry sobbed out. One simple question that revealed such ignorance.

" Since it won't matter much longer, I will indulge you. Because you are prophesized to be a threat. " And before Harry could speak through his sobs once again Voldemort acted.

" _Avada Kedavra. "_ He hissed out for the final time that night. But as Harry watched the green bolt leave his wand and hit him through teary eyes he noticed something different. The light bounced off his forehead tearing into his skin in a searing pain that caused his eyes to water even more. Through his blurry eyes Harry witnessed the bolt slam back into Voldemort, whose body began to evaporate before his eyes. But the worst part was the screaming, louder than the explosion her heard from his door being torn apart and it had an inhuman noise to it, horrifying Harry as he watched with a tear stained face and his once innocent eyes changing into something… haunted.

* * *

He knew should have responded as soon as he realized that the fidelius was down, but it had been eight years, it wasn't important, was it? And so there he was at Godric's Hollow fifteen minutes after he realized the fidelius had been compromised and he immediately regretted his decision to wait, because the first sight his eyes roamed over was James lifelessly crumpled in the doorway. He was deeply saddened to see another one of his students had fallen to the dark lord. Albus cautiously walked up the stairs, casting detection spells all the way up, and feared for the worst as his spells only found one being alive in the house.

Albus entered the room, wand raised and ready to fight, but was caught off guard by the child slumped in the corner sobbing over the corpse of his mother. Blood and tears mixed as they slid down his face. Albus quickly rushed to the boy, stepping over the inconspicuous dark cloak that was haphazardly left in the middle of the room. Harry's haunted eyes lifted from his mother to Albus, disturbing Albus greatly from the tracks of blood down his face, to the hysterical crying that no child should ever be making.

Albus lifted the boy from the corner, his slim eight year old body easy to lift despite Albus's old age. With a quick swish of his wand Albus cleared the blood from young Harry's face but couldn't stop the seeming endless tears flowing down his face. He began carrying Harry down the stairs doing his best to calm the sobbing child as he began to think of where best to place the child of his former students. Perhaps he should be entrusted to Remus? But his condition would always hold him back from gaining full legal custody, and he did not trust the ministry to let him place such an important child with him. Sirius Black was also quickly dismissed as the prophecy proclaimed that Harry would be the only one capable of defeating Voldemort, which called for a hero, not a prankster. Lastly that leaves the Dursley's, perhaps living away from the wizarding world would be good for him, shield him from the fame and allow living as a muggle to humble him. Yes, that would be best, and with the decision made and a few inquiries as to where they lived, he apparated himself and Harry to the completely nondescript and completely normal privet drive.

A horse like face peered through the window and grimaced at the cloaked man threatening to make her the talk of the neighborhood, so she opened the door and quickly ushered him inside hopeful that her actions would limit his exposure.

" Who are you? " She questioned with a superior tone in her voice.

" I am Albus Dumbledore, and this is the young Harry Potter, who I'm sure you have heard quite a bit of from Lily. " He spoke with a gesture to the eight year old in turn. " It has been decided that this will be the best home for him due to… unfortunate events.".

" And why should we take him in? " Vernon grunted as he announced his appearance.

" I can set up wards that will protect you from the attacks that are sure to come, but they will only work if he is to remain here. " Dumbledore answered.

" Fine, but do whatever you need to and leave, you're folk are not welcome here. " Vernon angrily responded. With a safe home for Harry Dumbledore walked through the backdoor to set up the wards, it would not due for the neighbors to see his wand. Once at the property line he began to ward the property, using some of Harry's blood to create a very strong ward while chanting " inanis exstinctique " to ward the house from wizards sight.

With his work now done, he returned to Hogwarts and began his walk to his office, hoping to avoid the entire next day he was sure to find celebrations disregarding the loss of two very great lives. With a heavy heart he entered his office to find his stern deputy headmistress awaiting him in his office.

" Why did you see fit to leave the castle without any warning? " Minerva asked him.

" The equal has been marked. " Was all that Albus said, disregarding her question and slumping down into his chair as Minerva paled considerably. " I can only hope the best for Harry ".


	2. Chapter 1

" _Is there truly a good or is it just a construct to justify ourselves? "_

* * *

Harry Potter was devastated and confused. Who is Albus Dumbledore, who are the Dursley's? Why did that man have to come and do what he did? Why did he have to take them from me? He didn't have time to ponder any of these questions as a meaty fist pounded on the dusty cupboard door demanding he rise and make them breakfast.

" Why should I " He whimpered through the cupboard door already somber from the memories of last night. The knocking stilled before the door was all but thrown off its hinges in an overly angry reaction by his uncle Vernon.

" What did you say, boy? " Vernon sneered out as he grabbed Harry by the collar and dragged him into the kitchen.

" I said why should I. " Harry responded hesitantly seeing the burning rage displayed in his pig of a uncles beady eyes.

" You wouldn't want to be useless would you boy? Because bad things happen to people who are useless, especially in this household. Now go and make my family dinner before you become more useless than you already are. " Vernon yelled lacing all the anger of being forced to accept this abnormal child into his voice.

" Okay " Harry whispered out and slouching his way to the stove to make the demanding meal for his surrogate "Family" that didn't care for him.

" You will address me with respect, call me sir " Vernon demanded of him, still angered to the bone because of his misfortune.

" Yes sir " He replied monotonically and unenthusiastically. It wasn't long until he carried four portions of food to the table and sat next to his cousin Dudley, careful not to press his singed fingers into anything for too long. But it wasn't meant to be, as he saw his uncle Vernon smile as he took away everything but his two pieces of toast and his glass of water. After his minuscule breakfast that left his stomach rumbling he was handed a chores list, manual labor that was meaningless other than to assure his discomfort.

He began cleaning the kitchen, always being pointed to a spot that he had already spent 15 minutes meticulously cleaning. After a few hours he was in a storm of emotions. Anger at what they were making them do, anguish at the loss of his parents, and disgruntled that he had to spend hours cleaning the kitchen. He spent the rest of the day cleaning in hopes to finish his chore list before being retired to his cupboard.

Many hours later found himself on the musty mattress grieving for his parents, desperate wishing he knew why, why they had to die if he was the threat, why them, why did that… that man have to take his parents when he was the problem, why did he feel so useless, he needed to be useful, not for the Dursleys, so he wouldn't feel so out of control, so inadequate. Why did it hurt so much, why did he want to scream and kick and punch and cry all at the same time, why, why, why, why were they taken from him, why me, what did I do to deserve this.

" WHY! " He screamed out in frustration and set his palms alight in a roaring orange fire. Harry was taken aback, he had seen people do this with a wand, but he did it himself with his hands. Could he do it again? Could he do other things? Moments later he hurried to snuff out the fire as the thumping on the stairs got louder and louder until he knew that the man he already was beginning to fear was outside of the cupboard. The door groaned mightily as it was pulled open by his uncle, belt in hand and a malicious grin on his face.

" I'll teach you to make noise while us hardworking and normal folk are upstairs trying to sleep. " He snapped out, already preparing to strike with the belt. He snapped the belt against his back, and Harry was forced to bite into his lip to stop from making more noise, it would only lead to more punishment. One, two, three, five, ten, fifteen, twenty strikes before Vernon deemed it a worthy punishment for his transgression. Harry could feel the slashes along his back screaming in agony as he now laid on his side hoping that the pain would relieve so he could attempt to sleep for some of the night and ponder his new discovery.

The next day after continued the same, abuse for minor transgressions and a gloomy child going through the motions. Day after day he spent trudging his way through his chores and night grieving for his parents. But each day he found himself spending less and less time grieving.

Harry was tending the garden, pulling out weeds and watering aunt Petunia's oh so perfect flowers as he heard a clicking of the latch, Harry slowly turned his head, fearful the he had forgotten the time and that Dudley had returned from the school where he himself should be going, but his uncle conveniently had forgotten to enroll him. His fears were confirmed as Dudley walked through the gate, followed by his gang to pick on the "freak". The torment began with an onslaught of rocks, pelting his back with smooth and jagged edges alike, Harry often grimacing in pain but refusing to acknowledge the pain knowing that it would only encourage Dudley. Blood began soaking into the back of his shirt as he bit down into his lip to avoid crying out. Tears in his eyes threatening to slide down his face as he continued on with his work.

" What's wrong freak, don't have any parents to protect you? " Dudley taunted as he pounded a particular heavy rock into Harry's back. At this Harry rose from his work and slowly turned to face the group, anger burning as tears slid down his face. Dudley's smile grew as he finally was getting a rise out of his cousin. Maybe his parents will punish him if they see he stopped working? He hoped they would. Harry saw red, fury coursing down his veins as he looked at the smirking group that tormented him, he thought about everything they had done to him over the past month, rocks thrown into his back, hitting him with gardening tools, or simply just having someone hold him down as the rained fists into him, his uncle and aunt turning a blind eye. With everything in perspective he lashed out, throwing his palms open and fire danced out into the gang. Dudley and his gang ran, terrified of the boy that his family treats like a slave. Harry was horrified with himself for unleashing a fire on the gang, but also slightly amused at the terror that he caused into those that had bullied him so.

It wasn't long before his uncle heard the yelling and threw open the back door, lunging out and grabbing Harry by the back of the collar and dragging him into the house, through the kitchen, blood dripping from his back onto the pristine tiles until he was forcefully tossed into his cupboard that got locked behind him. He sat there going through the memories of what had just happened in the garden, should he feel bad? They were cruel to him, doesn't it make sense that he would act back? They deserved it didn't they, so why should he worry? He pondered these thoughts throughout the rest of the day until he found himself asleep in his blood soaked shirt.

He awoke the next day unaware at how long he had slept, but saw light coming through the edges of the cupboard door, so it must be past his normal morning time. How come Vernon hadn't woken him to make breakfast? They must've decided to leave him here as punishment for his actions the other day. He didn't mind, the day in the cupboard was an improvement to the daily chores he was forced to complete and without the torment from Dudley some of his wounds may heal.

Later in the day Harry began to think about the fire he caused. What was it? How had he caused it? He had heard that children were prone to accidental magic, could that be it? It must've been as he knew they were fueled by emotions, and both times he had created the fire he was very emotional. With this in mind he began concentrating, concentrating on how cruel the Dursleys were to him. He concentrated solely on creating the fire, trying to will it into creation, frustration growing as time passed by with no success. An hour, two before the frustration got to him and all he wanted to do anymore was lash out, that he achieved his goal of creating the fire, fueled by his frustration. Harry stopped and looked at his triumph, eyes began gleaming and the frustration dropped, but as it did the fire flickered out. That night Harry went to sleep a little lighter, knowing he had his fire if he ever found himself in a precarious situation.


End file.
